Aching Hearts, Blossoming Dreams
by Peta2
Summary: Everyone at the prison knows Daryl and Carol are together, except for the couple themselves. Will tragedy finally help them admit how they feel and do something about it?


**AN: **I have no real excuses for my lack of updates, other than I started this one shot a while ago and haven't been able to write anything else until I got it done, and why did writing this take so long? Well, other than being very busy with test knitting for designers, this is a lot of smut. If you don't like smut, I recommend you skip this one. So, now this is done, my hope is to finish off Somewhere Out There for those of you following it, and then back to Marol. Or, you know, whatever I can actually get out onto the keyboard because writing is a bit of a struggle right now.

Also, very importantly, I want to thank everyone who took part in the tumblr competition run by SOA loving mom, and who voted for me as nicest author. I'm still slightly stunned because I'm a right cow in real life ;) Now, on with the fic with the hope I can pump more out soon. You know what to do now….review, fine people, and let me know you care! Unless of course you don't, in which case, please don't point out my bad smut and inferior storytelling abilities or I might have to crawl under a rock!

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead and don't earn a cent from twisting these characters into situations that let me sleep at night.**

Aching Hearts, Blossoming Dreams

He'd just needed a moment to himself. The day was almost done, winding down on itself. The horror of what had passed in the hours before was only just now starting to wash over him. The adrenaline had barely stopped pumping through it all—walkers turning their people into kibble, someone within the prison a murderer, someone killing… He was just grateful it wasn't Carol. And as he allowed himself to finally feel, to finally accept that she was alive and it wasn't him breaking down for having lost her, his knees gave out and he slumped against the wall, tears squeezing past his lids despite his best efforts for them not to.

Fuck. All the blood. Tyreese… Daryl would've let the man punch him all he wanted if Rick hadn't pulled him off, because even then the one thought that kept running through his head was, thank fuck it wasn't Carol. He'd found it almost impossible to let compassion flood his heart for the other man because he was still breathing too fast, too shallow from his pure panic that he could have lost her. Again. Not this time, though. This time someone else lost someone and he was a fucking bastard because he was _grateful. _Grateful as hell that he hadn't racked up another casualty within his close circle of people he gave a shit about.

His muscles burned from hauling bodies. From running in and _saving _people, even though it hadn't been enough. This past week had sucked for sure, and he was just so tired now that he didn't think he could ever be more weary. He needed sleep but was too wired with images of blood and death in his brain to take the risk of letting his eyes close. When was it going to end? When were they going to stop allowing their hearts to open to more people when they just kept getting ripped away by fate?

He was more reclusive than most. He didn't do it on purpose, knowing full well he'd perfected the survival tactic as a protective mechanism from his less than stellar childhood. A way to make sure his old man didn't completely break him. He really only allowed his original group into his heart, and even then he knew he kept them just outside his inner wall. Even Carol, who he loved with every part of his soul. He couldn't let her in completely, couldn't let her claim the tiny space beside where he'd always held Merle without knowing that, probably sooner rather than later, she'd likely rip him apart. Not on purpose, maybe, but it was inevitable and it killed him to know it. Killed him to be so defensive about what hadn't even happened yet. He was being ripped apart just knowing he was going to lose her one day, or that she might even lose him, and he was too much of a pussy to at least make the loss worthwhile. To make it matter somehow.

Sometimes he thought she'd found a break in the wall and she'd already snuck in there, her heart beating right next to his. He couldn't go through a day without checking in with her, without scanning a room for her. He couldn't sleep without knowing she was safe. And now, now he couldn't breathe because he was so happy that she was still with him even if Tyreese was now the one in mourning. That the big man was the one taking his turn at being all fucked up and irrational and wanting them all to suffer for his loss.

Carol had been right in amongst it all today, rushing in between the survivors and the dead, helping anyone and soothing everyone. She was a shining fucking star and he was so tired of being too terrified of drifting within her orbit in case he got burned. Standing back and watching her dish out all her emotional reserves for others hurt worse, he realised now. She kept nothing back for herself, and yet he knew, without even thinking about it, she'd squeeze one last drop out and hand it over to him. Suddenly the thought of her making him her sole focus was overwhelming—he wondered what it might be like if he gave in and let himself be everything she might need, might _want, _automatically knowing that wanting him would be the change between them that would set everything on fire. Being needed meant very little these days—they all needed each other in order to survive—but being wanted exclusively by her…it was a situation he craved. It was something that made his senses buzz erratically with excitement and terror.

Daryl wanted her so bad. Idle touches weren't enough anymore, but he didn't know what to do. How to tell her even half of what he felt. What he wanted. He knew that everyone already saw them as a couple. They spent most of their free time together, sought each other out if something needed to be discussed, if he wanted her opinion on one of the new group, or if he just wanted to see her for five minutes so he could get on with his day. And he knew she worried about him…endlessly. That her eyes always settled on him longer than anyone else. That she looked after him like a wife would. That knowledge alone spiked his blood pressure and made his head all floaty. Made him feel unlike himself. Made him want to smile at her like some whipped puppy that couldn't do a thing but follow slobbering at her heels. He'd always thought marriage was for pussies, but even he'd been swept away by Glenn and Maggie's union and commitment to each other, and only now was he realising Carol was as committed to him as those two were to each other. Married people did more than just float around each other, though, and letting that last barrier collapse was proving the most difficult one of all. Physical intimacy had always been a struggle like no other.

He didn't know how to take the first step to make them something else. He'd spent so long being untouchable that now he didn't even know how to reach out, and it seemed that waiting for her to make the first move might keep them in limbo forever. He'd tried, but every time he raised his hand to attempt to touch her, he shook so bad and he broke out into a cold sweat and thought he'd pass out. Not because touching her skin made him afraid, but the expectation that the sensory overload of finally having what his body craved might just be too much for his simple mind to handle.

Daryl leaned back against the wall, his head falling back as he contemplated the sky. His vision swam as he contemplated the stars, saw how they sparkled just like her smile. He'd ask for guidance, his exhausted body and mind trying to scramble through words to form a heartfelt wish, and when he'd finally had it exactly worked out the way he wanted it, he heard footsteps around the corner of his hiding spot and Maggie started talking. Within seconds he knew he was the topic of their conversation and his gut twisted in dread.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Is it bad that I'm grateful it wasn't any of us?"

Carol knew immediately what Maggie meant. They'd lost so many of their small group over the last year that Carol herself felt a guilty sense of relief that this time, their own were spared.

"I mean, I know it's awful, and those poor kids, but us. We're safe, you know? I don't think I could take it if another one of us didn't make it."

Carol reached for Maggie's hand and found the younger girl's hand was shaking.

"Oh Carol, your hands are shaking."

Carol made a sound that sounded halfway between a snort of laughter and a sob. "So are yours."

They sat in quiet for a while, but Maggie never left it like that for long. "Poor Tyreese. He's really taking it bad. Like Rick with Lori."

"It's hard losing someone you love. I almost envy that they can let themselves go to that kind of place. It feels real." It _was _real. It made more sense to lose your damned mind when shock and loss kept knocking you sideways than to bottle it all up and just accept death was inevitable, losing their friends and loved ones quietly while waiting for the next one to fall.

"I don't think I'd want to go on if I lost Glenn," Maggie admitted, her voice shaky, her hands squeezing Carol's tight.

She studied the girl, her eyes narrowing in their contemplation. "You would. You'd still have Beth and your dad. But…I won't lie. It would be the worst hurt you've ever felt. I wouldn't wish that kind of loss on anyone, but…you do go on."

"You can't…" Maggie gulped, the pain of just the thought almost too much for her to bear. "What if it was Daryl?"

She was so emotionally exhausted that the tears were immediate and Carol tried desperately to stop herself from losing it as they sat in the darkness. He'd been one of the first to rush into the cell block, saving that little curly-haired boy and others, and while she loved him so much for never thinking of himself, always caring about the safety of everyone else first, it almost broke her to think how easily he could have been attacked. He could have been lost. It had been crazy in there. Crazy enough to get bitten without even knowing there was a walker so near.

"Please, don't even say it. I can't lose him." The tears that clogged her voice were pitiful.

"Okay, enough," Maggie said, voice strong, trying to convince herself to shake off the tragedy of the day. "Our men are fine. We made it through."

Carol nodded, smiling through the sheen of tears that were ever-present.

"What we need to do is make them know how grateful we are they're safe. That we're safe."

Carol squinted at the new twinkle in Maggie's eye and suddenly felt uncomfortable. "I have the strangest feeling that I don't want to know what you're hintin' at," Carol confided nervously, hugging her arms around herself to ward off the chill in the air but also the words she just knew were about to confront her and strip her defences bare.

"Well, I don't know about you but bein' happy to be alive makes me want to have sex with my man pretty much all night long. An' I'm grateful Glenn's up to the task."

Carol choked on a laugh. "You're a lucky girl, Maggie Rhee."

"Hey, you're lucky, too," Maggie said, sultry approval dripping from her tongue. "I'm sure Daryl hits all the right places. That man has a few very lickable parts."

Carol's eyes nearly bugged right out of her head. There was nothing to deny about his attributes—she just wished she'd seen more of them in the flesh and that he'd made some kind of effort to hit any places, let alone all the right ones.

"Daryl's not like that." She _wished _he was like that, but sending prayers on every shooting star wasn't going to change anything. Not in the world like it was now.

"Not like what? A man?" Maggie was so young, her voice incredulous, and Carol couldn't help but smile sadly at the lessons she was taking so much longer than usual to learn, simply because the world turned at a different pace than it used to and she'd been lucky to find Glenn straight off the bat.

"Glenn's young and…enthusiastic still," Carol tried to deflect, knowing that the last thing she needed right now was to focus on all the things she _didn't _have.

"Oh come on. That man of yours is so wild and… and earthy. There's no way you can convince me that Daryl ain't anything but an animal in the sack. All instinct and passion. I see the two of you and some mornin's I wonder how it is you don't walk funny."

Carol's dead silence seemed to finally clue Maggie in that she'd stepped knees deep into an emotional quagmire the likes she'd never encountered before.

"You can't always judge people like that, Maggie. Not everything is about sex."

"Carol, you're sayin' that like it ain't even good."

Carol sat up straighter, dropping Maggie's hand to rub an unsteady fist against her aching and stinging eyes. It shouldn't hurt so much that she was probably the only woman in the whole prison that wasn't desired by a man. She knew that Daryl cared deeply for her, and it was really her own stupid fault for falling for a man that was emotionally fractured in ways this new world couldn't fix.

"I'm not sayin' that," she ventured at last, knowing there was no chance Maggie was going to let her get up and walk away from this discussion. "Truth is, I don't know how good it would be. We've never had sex."

Maggie's jaw dropped and Carol laughed softly as her finger lifted it and Maggie's teeth clacked back together.

"You're serious?" she said after a while, her tone dripping with disbelief. "You two share a room, you're always with each other and that man can't get through his day without looking at you at least twice before he leaves. I've never seen anyone more obviously in love. How's it possible you've not had sex with him? Is it because of Ed?"

That shocked Carol into sitting up straight. Ed was almost her golden ticket to run, not walk into checking out what was left on the market. It wasn't possible that any remaining man on the planet could be worse in bed than he had been, but then Carol realised Maggie was inferring that her emotional scars might run so deep that she'd held Daryl at arm's length.

"No, it's not Ed. It's… Sex is…it's an intimacy between two people that I just don't think Daryl can handle. Probably not ever. Sometimes a person has just been too hurt to take that risk."

Maggie looked at her with such deep remorse that Carol gave up trying to hold the tears in.

"But you love him. I know you do."

Carol nodded her head, her shoulders shaking with the effort to not let everything inside her collapse. There was no doubt in her mind that Daryl Dixon was the focus of more of her love than she'd ever given to another, save for Sophia, and she would never regret handing her heart over to him. It was stupid to feel so rejected, so scorned because he couldn't force himself to touch her. That he couldn't break through the final barrier he'd erected to keep his emotional distance from an intimacy that would mean he could one day be broken completely if it was ever abused.

"I do. And he loves me. Sometimes, it's just not enough." Her breath shook on a sob.

Maggie made an impatient sound and leaned back against the wall, thinking things through.

"Has he at least kissed you?"

Silence seemed to scream between them as Carol slowly shook her head.

"Not even a peck on the lips?"

Carol's lips stayed stubbornly closed but her head betrayed her and she shook it again, the misery of it feeling like a crushing ache in her chest.

"So, what? You're going to go to your grave not even kissing the guy everyone knows you're mad about? Without knowing what it's like to stare into his eyes with him moving inside of you and you telling him exactly how you feel about him?"

That vivid image was the last straw. The tether she'd been able to hold on her emotions shattered into a million pieces and Carol collapsed into Maggie's arms, shaking and sobbing with all the pain and need she couldn't keep inside anymore. Not now, when so many of them were dead, when someone within their ranks was a betrayer, when she didn't know one day to the next if Daryl was going to come back alive or not. They all needed comfort in one way or another, but with Daryl, it wasn't even like that for her anymore. She'd latched onto him because they had things in common, pain in common—not that they'd ever discussed it, just knew it down deep inside of the other—but the images Maggie had just painted exploded like some form of Heaven in her head. She wanted _him _more than she'd wanted anything in her whole life, and it had nothing to do with it being the end of the world. She craved his touch on her skin like she'd laid waste in the desert for days, desperate for food and water.

It took more than a few minutes before Carol was able to attempt to pull herself back together, dragging her sleeve roughly across her face to try and repair some of the damage. It took a few minutes more for her to realise and feel humiliated that whoever was on watch would have witnessed her breakdown, even if from afar.

"That man is breakin' your heart," Maggie said, her hand rubbing hard against Carol's back and she realised the younger woman was comforting her like she'd always comforted others, within an understanding and sympathetic embrace and she almost collapsed all over again. Human touch was something she couldn't banish, no matter how much she felt she needed to.

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. This world is…God, Carol, it's fucked up. If I didn't have Glenn to hold me at night I don't know how I'd get up the courage to drag myself out of bed each mornin'. Rick's been a mess ever since he killed Shane and Lori kicked him out of her bed. We all need to be touched, to feel close to someone."

"I've got Judith," Carol attempted to joke but Maggie fobbed her off, scoffing that the impassive clutch of a baby could ever be enough to counter what they faced in this new world every day.

"You need more than that. We _all _need more than that. You're an adult, Carol. A woman. Don't you have needs?"

"Of course I do, but even I…Look, sometimes when the only touch you've ever known hurts you…"

"_Everyone _needs to be held, Carol. You can't convince me otherwise. Touch heals."

"Daryl doesn't want it," Carol tried again to explain. "I get it. He's been hurt too much in the past. The people who are meant to love you shouldn't be the ones that hurt you the most, and not just emotionally, but physically, so being able to trust another person to lay their hand on you, even in kindness, or with love, is hard. Maybe if I'd met him before this new world, given time, we might have been able to get to that point, but now? Every mornin' we wake up is a risk. We live in fear every minute of our lives now, and Daryl just doesn't have the time to break down those walls and trust me completely. I understand it, Maggie. I do."

"No. Every mornin' we wake up is a blessing, not a risk. Understandin' doesn't mean you can't go lookin' for affection somewhere else. There's other men here now. Other choices—"

"Stop, Sweetheart. Please." She hated to beg, but this discussion was getting ridiculous now. A girl barely into her twenties giving her advice on sex. On the complexity of relationships. Carol almost laughed out loud, but she knew if she did it would be nothing but bitter. She understood Daryl better than anyone could give credit, and there was no way she was turning her back on him just because he couldn't take their relationship to a physical level. "Daryl _is_ my choice. He'll always be my choice. You never knew Ed. He was a violent brute of a man. He…did things to me, too. It's why I understand why Daryl can't… What the Governor tried on you… I can't. Not with someone else. I might love Daryl, and I admit I want him, sometimes it hurts I want him so bad, but go to someone else just to be touched? No. I won't do that. It'd cheapen how I feel about him."

Maggie grew silent, contemplative and for a moment a dark look hung around in her eyes. The younger woman suddenly shook it off then hugged her. "I understand," she whispered against Carol's hair and Carol believed that now she just might. The Governor had forced Maggie to grow up in ways Carol wished she'd never had to. Together they stared toward the fence, letting the discussion settle as new concerns pushed their way through, the both of them feeling apprehensive about the strong presence of walkers that still lingered even now it was dark. "What about tonight? You shouldn't be in your room on your own. There's a maniac runnin' loose and we don't have the first clue who it is."

"I'll be fine. I'll have Daryl lock the door until he finishes watch."

The door to the cells behind them screeched loudly as it opened onto the darkness of the night and heavy boots ran down the stairs. Rick found them almost immediately, took one look at Carol's miserable, tear-worn face and indicated to Maggie she should go back inside with a subtle jerk of his head. With a final, extra tight squeeze, Maggie hugged Carol and then got to her feet, her exhaustion from the trying day obvious.

"I'll see ya'll inside."

Rick and Carol nodded as she left, Rick taking Maggie's vacated spot on the seat next to Carol. "How you holdin' up?"

"I'm fine," she said, even though the wobble of her bottom lip and the tears that persistently slid down her face made her a liar.

"You're not." Rick called her on it.

"I just want this day to be over," Carol confided, her voice catching on her grief and she struggled to stem the tide before it broke free again and Rick got more than he bargained for. She sniffled pathetically and then he was there, standing in front of them without having made the slightest noise at all.

"I got her," Daryl told Rick and he held his hand out to her. He'd been doing that a lot lately, accepting her hand and sometimes even linking their fingers together if he wanted to lead her somewhere instead of just helping her to her feet.

"Take care of her, Daryl," Rick called out to them and she felt Daryl's hand stiffen against hers. He nodded at Rick, catching the hidden meaning, and then he tugged her up the stairs and into the cells. It was mostly dark inside…quiet. Those that were left had retired in their grief, most still crying to themselves quietly. Daryl led her up the stairs to their room then closed the door, locked it and lifted the cover down to block the inside from anyone nosy enough to care what they got up to. Carol moved straight away to light the candle that stood on a small bedside table and then she sat on the side of the bed, her body going lax as all the energy she'd tried to sustain throughout the day finally gave up on her and dissipated. Her shoulders shook and dimly she heard Daryl prop his crossbow against the chair that barely fit in the corner now that they'd managed to fit a decent sized bed inside the cell. It left no room on the floor, so while they shared the bed, it wasn't often that both of them were in it at the same time.

Almost in a daze, Carol leaned down to undo the laces on her boots, her fingers fumbling at the ties until Daryl's fingers took over and she looked up sharply. He was watching her as he absently tugged off first her boots and then her socks and then his fingers circled her ankles gently, his thumbs creating a maddeningly sensitive pattern against the top of her foot that made her gasp with such longing that it burned.

"What're you doing?" She sounded huskier than she ever had before, even when she'd suffered a cold and lost her voice.

Daryl stayed on his knees but pushed himself between her legs, his hands resting on the bed on either side of her knees, leaving barely a foot between them. She could so easily lean in that extra distance and kiss him, but even as her mind clouded with longing, Carol knew that she couldn't risk having him run out on her. A kiss wasn't worth that kind of cost, not when he was closer to her now than he ever allowed himself to be. Even though the closeness was making her fear she was losing her own mind. His eyes were soft as he peered into her, seeing something she knew she couldn't hide, even if she wanted to, and instead of running, Daryl stayed, looking half terrified out of his mind, but stubbornly staying put anyway.

"I was outside, thinkin' about how glad I was that it wasn' you Tyreese found today."

And it wasn't just her who was struggling to keep her voice straight. His always sounded like gravel ground down to dirt, but now this low softness stirred up a pool of heat in her belly that was fast spreading outward, waking up parts of her body she'd forced to stay dormant for a very long time.

Without thinking, Carol reached out and rested her palm against his cheek, ready to thank whoever she needed to for sparing him again. For leaving him for her to keep, even if only for another day. "Me too." Tears blocked her throat and Carol took measured deep breaths, trying to hold the barrage in and ultimately failed when Daryl gave her that slight smile that he always saved for her.

"How'd we get so lucky?" His head tilted to the side and the urge was there, so strong she could hardly resist it, her hand burning as it continued to brush against the stubble on his face. She shook her head in answer; she had no words left, all of them consumed by the grief manifesting in a sea of tears, consumed by the desperation for him that just kept on building, no matter how many times she told herself it was a waste of time to hope. He moved closer, his nose was just barely touching hers, his eyelids clamped shut, his breath coming in forceful, fast bursts against her lips and Carol felt the first tremors shift through her body. Her palm stroked his cheek as if amazed, drifting down his neck, finally settling on his shoulder and she was convinced the whole trail could be explained by the laws of gravity, not this strange, liquid compulsion that was taking over her limbs.

The tip of her nose tingled against his and her heart was pounding so loud she could barely hear anything else, even though the prison echoed the smallest noises like they were gunshots. Her senses were overwhelmed with his closeness, with this intimacy he was allowing her and Carol felt her diaphragm start to pinch with her quick, shallow breaths.

"Daryl?" His name was barely audible as it spilled from her lips and she gasped when he moved, getting so close to her that his face blurred before her a little and then the first, gentle brush of his lips pressed against hers.

It was so brief she feared she imagined it, but her lips still tingled as he drew back to watch her.

"I'm such a coward," his voice rasped out and Carol shuddered in response, her brow crinkled in confusion as his words fought to break through this sudden heat pounding through her veins.

"What do you mean?"

"Been wantin' to do that since you told Merle you'd slit his throat in his sleep if he screwed things up. Knew then you'd go to any lengths to protect me. Knew then you were mine."

Her vision blurred and Carol felt such a contradictorily overwhelming rush of shame and desire almost scalding her insides.

"Oh God." She fought her impulse to look away from him, her embarrassed gaze burning into the scruff on his chin as her hand compulsively fisted into the leather across his shoulder. "You heard that?"

His reactions seemed all topsy-turvy to her. Instead of telling her he was moving out because she'd once threatened to kill his brother, he chuckled and moved one of his rough, well-worked hands to her hip. His palm burned through the fabric of her pants and set off a scorching burn she felt drill its way deep into her core. Urgent cravings to have that rough palm against her bare skin were making her dizzy and not a little befuddled.

"Yeah. Look on Merle's face as you walked away was priceless." His hand was sliding further up, stopping frustratingly at her waist though his restless fingers rubbed the point until she was thoroughly distracted. Random, disjointed thoughts flew through her head and Carol realised she was on the brink of a shattering mental breakdown of her senses, except this felt far too good, too erotic to be something so mentally draining. So unexpected but so wanted, and she couldn't still her body against the onslaught of sensation, jiggling a little to test if his hand might move even more. It did and she gasped in shock, her blue eyes shimmering with heat as they clashed with his unusual full on stare. Their gazes were hooked on the other, and while she was preoccupied with the hunger she fancied she spied down in the shadowed depths of his eyes, he skimmed up her ribs until his fingers clasped around her ribcage, his thumb just brushing the underside of her breast.

The thought that this might actually be happening flittered like delicious scraps through her mind, and Carol succumbed to tiny tremors of anticipation. Daryl had gone completely still, though, and she wondered if he was waiting for her to make some indication of what he should do next. Some indication that this was what she actually _wanted _him to do.

She cleared her throat, trying hard to dislodge the lump of fear that was stuck stubbornly in her windpipe. "You know," she started, panting sharply at the wobbly sound of her voice. "I always had this one rule with men. Especially the ones that looked like they might be getting fresh."

"Oh yeah?" He looked worried and Carol understood that. She was scared to death just contemplating this new step he'd taken without her even anticipating it. Scared it could all go to hell and terrified that it wouldn't. It was all here, laid out in front of them, surrounding her like a cloud, like a promise that felt very much like their bed. _Their _bed. Oh God, she wanted them to both be in this bed together, at the same time, and naked would be a good part of the plan, too. Not that she had a plan. Not that she had anything but a wildly galloping heartbeat and a raging hunger to experience his body all around hers that she feared may leave her with a dredging ache that would never be soothed.

"I never let a man touch my breast until he's kissed me breathless at least once." Being so bold made her feel high, and as Carol inwardly cheered her bravado at saying something so forward to a man who, until now, had been nothing but emotionally backward, Daryl almost fell forward like a man starved most of his life of human touch—from basic affection. Like a man who'd just been promised the world barring one measly little stipulation he had to achieve first, and he was going to achieve it with gusto.

This time his lips did more than brush against hers, he caught them in a rush, as if he was afraid they'd disappear if he didn't claim them on the spot. Carol moaned and tears prickled in her eyes. This moment encompassed all she'd been longing for, for months, years, her whole lifetime—she'd just taken forever to realise it was Daryl that she'd wanted it from and even longer to give up hope it would ever happen. Daryl was trashing that assumption completely as he rose from his knees, his hand curled against the back of her skull and twisting into the short curls. It was his tongue that did it, shocked her into a surge of passion that struck her baser impulses dead and breath ran from her. Like a strike of lightening in a wet sky, her lips parted and he swept within and kissed the very life out of her. It broke something, his own loud pants echoing in the cavern of her mouth as he drew back gasping, diving straight back in to imprint the taste of himself in her memory forever. The second his hand drifted and cupped her breast he hauled himself back, staring at her in shock. She could focus on little else but his shaking hands and her own trembling breath, so that when his voice broke through her fuzzy mind, she startled.

"I ain't never had a partner before," he admitted, his eyes barely lifting from the floor to stare intently at her chin. He shuffled from boot to boot and Carol saw how afraid he was, just of this discussion alone, let alone anything else he was trying to achieve by coming to her like this, by _starting _this with her. "Don't know how to do all that romantic shit." His blue eyes trapped her within a bubble of his emotions—he was wary that if he didn't do this right, if he didn't come up to some perceived expectation of hers of being a real man, a romantic one that knew how to woo her properly, that she'd kick him out of her bed with his heart left dangling, crushed and broken from his shattered ribcage. Carol almost laughed at how perverted his own vision of himself was. At how little faith he had in what she saw in him—in what she _needed _from him. What she'd known for a good long while now.

"Daryl," she whispered, unable to get her voice to press clearly against the hoarseness in her throat, emotion effectively choking her up. "You are the most romantic man I think I've ever known."

He snorted and she couldn't help but grin at the sound and the expression on his face. "Ain't gonna get you anywhere by tellin' lies, Carol." He edged a shy look at her through his bangs and her heart melted even further before it started pounding a deafening echo in her ears.

"You are the only man who has ever given me flowers, and not only did you give me a flower, you gave me a beautiful story full of meaning to go with it." She brutally shoved back all the other memories that came with that one gesture. "You carried me away from a dark, empty cell where I'd pretty much settled in to die and hovered close by until you knew I'd be okay. You searched for my daughter and _suffered _because of it." The pain of it still stung, but Carol figured it was another reason why he was in her heart and why she wasn't ever letting him escape. "You roared up on your bike like a knight in shining armour and whisked me away from walkers at the farm. You watch over me and protect me with everything you do. How can you say you aren't romantic? You've thrown so many romantic gestures at me for the last year and a half that most times I can't see straight from how much you've been exactly the kind of man any woman would go all giddy over. How much you've made me fall in love with you."

She was standing now, the fiery hum of anticipation along her flesh driving all her fine hairs to stand on end, goosebumps pimpling her arms and making her rub them energetically with shaking hands as she took slow, wary steps toward him. He'd shown such unusual courage by kissing her, by declaring that he wanted something from her, it was the least she could do to help him clear the final hurdles.

Daryl cocked his head to the side and watched her boldly as she drew closer to him, not even flinching as she raised her hand and let her fingers flutter down the side of his face and patter over his kiss-plumped bottom lip. She saw desire in his eyes and she instantly became lost to the responding fire in her belly, the visceral reaction of her body to the promise of finally having him. No matter where she stood, though, she knew this was a shocking development. She'd told Maggie earlier that she'd long ago accepted that Daryl could never go to this place, that he didn't want her that way. The possibility that he came to her now through nothing more than a sense of obligation settled heavily around her heart, quenching the stir of desire within her.

"Daryl, is this really what you want?"

His gaze didn't break. He didn't step away from her touch. He didn't evacuate the room and he didn't dissolve into an angry rebuke like he might have done even months before. This world and these times had weathered his responses to so many situations but Carol never expected that this might be one of them.

"I want you," he confessed and something akin to electric static shot into her system and she was on high alert. "I want _this,_" he said, sweeping a hand out and indicating their bed, "with you." His hand dropped and settled on her hip so he could pull her close, pull her against him so the front of their bodies teased each other with potential.

"Oh," Carol breathed, feeling more than a little light-headed. "Okay."

Daryl chuckled, eliciting a giggle from her that sounded slightly hysterical to her ears. The hand on her hip yanked her even closer so her pelvis met his, and she felt the second touch as his other hand found a grip on her head and dragged her lips back within striking distance of his. He hesitated, and through Carol's swimming senses she barely understood except for the fact that she wasn't yet lost in the overwhelming taste of his mouth.

"Last chance," he muttered against her lips and Carol nodded distractedly, not having a clue what he was saying but trying to make him shut up with a gentle, sweet stroke of her tongue against his lips. "Stop," he rebuked gently and she was chastened for all of two seconds until she felt the smile he couldn't hold back. "We do this, an' we consummate this thing. You okay with that?"

His terminology threw her off kilter and as the words ticked over in her dazed brain, she gasped, body vibrating with the pain of too much want.

"Consummate?" She tried to tide back the hope but both her hands were now fisted into the front of his shirt, her body taut as a bow ready to snap if he didn't answer the way she was desperate for him to.

"Well, ain't like you don't act like my wife already. May as well make it solid. Real." He shrugged, like what he said was no big deal, that he'd accepted it in some far back part of his life that he'd forgotten to tell her about, just accepting that she knew it as well as he did already. And she did, sort of. He was right—she probably was more of a natural wife to him than she'd ever been to Ed. He made her happier than she'd ever thought imaginable when fighting to stay alive amongst dead flesh-eating people. He made her _want _to take care of him and it had just logically fallen in with the people they were that she'd taken to doing his clothes, making sure he ate, sharing his bed. She had no trouble at all seeing how Maggie would think they were together in every way imaginable.

"I'd like that," she said at last, slightly embarrassed at the wispy, breathless quality of her assent.

"Yeah?"

Eyes bright with pure happiness, Carol seized the opportunity and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and nipped it gently. She melted at his strange, strangled little squeak.

"Absolutely."

He sealed the deal with another kiss, and this time he put everything Carol thought he had to give into it. Hand curled around the back of her head, he held her still as his lips and tongue worked her into a moaning frenzy, light nips and bites of a little more pressure driving her out of her mind. He clasped hold of her waist and dragged her tighter against his body and there was no longer any space for misunderstanding. He wanted her, desired her and Carol laughed silently in her head, joy bolting through her system. Rough fingertips stroked a haphazard path across her ribs until they encountered the edge of her cotton bra, and then he teased and fumbled his fingers over the fabric until he pulled the cup aside and caught the bounty of a hardening nipple between two pinching fingers. The sensation sent a bolt of longing straight to her core. She was frenzied, sucking on his tongue and deepening the kiss while trying to push his shirt off his shoulders as soon as her fingers had manipulated the buttons open. He shrugged it off without letting her go, toeing off his boots before the reality seemed to kick in and he pushed her away. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the floor, breath haggard as he seemed to struggle with something. Carol wasn't stupid—she had a pretty good idea this whole scenario was something outside of Daryl's usual life experience. Slowly, he relaxed his arms and dropped them to his sides, wary eyes seeking her out.

"There's a chance I ain't never done this sober. Just thought you should know in case you had high expectations." He stood there, like a little boy lost that didn't have the first clue about the natural progression of what they were about to do and Carol had the insane urge to giggle. Here they were, talking about consummating their relationship and being actually married instead of just acting like it, and he was shy about getting naked with her. More shy than a teenage boy about to embark on his very first sexual experience. It shouldn't be funny, but with her also feeling like she was back in high school about to reveal herself to the first boy she had a crush on, it suddenly was extremely funny. And cute.

"Ed was always three sheets to the wind. As long as you don't pass out before we're finished, it'll be perfect."

His smirk was one part Daryl and three parts Devil as he peered at her through his lashes and went several shades of pink.

"He pass out often?"

Carol laughed out loud. "Believe me, it was a blessin' most of the time." By some silent, mutual agreement, they'd both decided to banish all the hurt of the past and treat those experiences and memories as the joke that they now appeared. Nothing Ed had done to her in the past could hurt her now; Carol refused to allow it. That part of her life was over—dead and buried along with the man himself. If she saw the scars on Daryl's body that he was bravely displaying despite his obvious reluctance, then who was she to bring it up and draw attention back to those horrific memories? She wanted to get this show rolling, wanted to recapture the heat of his touch and be back in his arms with his tongue in her mouth and hopefully have it exploring other places. An idea took shape in her head and as silly as she felt thinking it, she had a feeling it might be exactly what they both needed to move on with this.

"I ain't gonna pass out, unless you make me come so hard I black out."

Carol snorted in shock and slapped her hand over her mouth, titillated and extremely turned on that he would say such a thing. "I shouldn't be surprised you've got such a gutter mouth, Daryl Dixon. Merle was your brother, afterall."

"You might be surprised at what else he mighta taught me."

He talked big and brave but Carol could tell he was still shaking in his boots, even if he had kicked them off into a corner. She needed to take action before this show ran out of steam and Daryl high-tailed it back out of their room.

"You mind if I take off my shirt? I feel over-dressed."

Carol aimed a cheeky wink at him and then whipped her shirt off over her head before he could answer, unclasping her bra and letting it drop. His eyes hit the floor with the scrap of white cotton and they weren't coming back up. She guessed she had her answer. Quickly she wiggled out of her pants while he inspected the floor for who knew what and then jumped into their bed, and shivered between the sheets.

"Your turn. I'm going to close my eyes while you strip and then get into bed. I won't look, I promise." She glimpsed his surprised expression of gratitude before she clamped her lids shut and waited.

The second she heard his belt buckle clang on the floor and his side of the bed dip to his body weight, her heart started thumping rapidly. She rolled to face him, taking in the tiny smudge of dirt on his cheekbone he'd probably missed after cleaning the horror of the day from his skin, watching the softened hue of his beautiful eyes as they watched her every move. She brushed her fingertips across the scruff at his chin and rubbed her thumb against the chaffed dryness of his lips. The smile she couldn't hold back was based wholly in happiness, but then it faltered a little when he opened his mouth and revealed something she suddenly wished she didn't know.

"I heard you before. You and Maggie."

Her stomach felt like she'd swallowed a gallon of lead. Was that what this was all about? Maggie's good natured probing brought their true relationship to light and he thought he had to fix it—give her what she needed before she went looking elsewhere?

"I wish you hadn't." The words left a bad taste in her mouth.

"I'm glad I did. I liked knowin' the physical part don't mean everything to you, that you'd stay even if this never happened. I weren't lyin', though. I want this with you. I want you."

Carol felt hot and flushed all over. Expectation settled heavily into the silence and then something snapped in her head, something that dropped right off her back and gave her permission to take what she wanted—to seize what he was offering with both hands and all of her body. She launched herself at him, her lips almost missing her target, but his arms went around her just at the right moment and helped her aim true. He opened his mouth and welcomed her tongue, sucking it deep into his mouth and teasing her ruthlessly and while the heat of his mouth and the swirl of his tongue almost fried her senses completely, it was the sensation of her breasts pressed against his bare chest that spurred her on.

She moaned against his lips and then her hungry fingers began exploring, running through his knotted hair, smiling as she snagged at the tangles and accidentally pulled out strands while he growled at her in warning from deep in his throat. He kissed her breathless and as she tore her mouth away to gasp for air, and a curious hand ventured from his scalp to his chest, she suddenly found herself flipped onto her back and a newly confident, wild man stared down at her with undisguised hunger in his eyes. The transformation niggled some tiny snippet from her talk with Maggie to the fore, and as he dove for her throat, his long, wet tongue leaving a moist trail across her flesh, she remembered it. The girl had implied that Daryl was all about instinct, that he'd be an animal in bed—passionate where it mattered—and as that tongue finished its interest in her clavicle and he nibbled and bit at her shoulder, Carol knew she was about to find out how very much Daryl was an instinctual lover and she was going to adore it.

He was moving further over her as he drifted down her body, his roughened touch a scream of sensation against her flesh as it wandered from her knee up her thigh, fingertips ghosting against the dip of her hip to twirl around her belly button and then roam up her ribcage until he held her breast firmly cupped in his palm. As the knowledge sank in that his naked body was rubbing against hers, the hot cavern of his mouth closed around her nipple and she forgot to breathe, curving up into his mouth, her knee bumping against his erection. In a move so unexpected she almost hyperventilated, Daryl grasped her hand and wrapped her fingers around his dick, he swearing softly in approval as her gentle fingers relaxed around the hard length of him before beginning to stroke him. He felt like fire in her hand, hot, hard, throbbing heat and as she gave him the gentlest squeeze, he went wild. The blankets were ripped roughly from the bed before he grabbed her knees and pried them apart, his mouth falling to the soft, starved folds between her legs.

Carol was a mess, writhing on the bed as his lips and tongue teased her, sucking her clit deep into his mouth and then flickering over it with butterfly-like flutters of his tongue. She could discern every single lap and every entry as he tried to seek out mysteries deeper inside her. A slow burn curled down deep in her belly, building and jerking through her body and making everything tingle with blistering awareness—her breasts, her fingers, her toes, even her scalp was flushed hot and building toward something amazing.

"Hmmm," she hummed as she reflexively arched into his mouth, nails clawing desperately into the bed sheets beside her, and as that point drew ever closer, as tension left her feeling taut and desperate, the tip of his tongue tickled her nub and she shattered in his mouth, crying out at the ceiling again as his teeth prolonged the sweet agony by sinking into the flesh of her inner thigh and she came hard, a sob lingering on her breath.

He feasted while she calmed her heart, his mouth mapping every inch of her flesh as he made his way back up her body in an excruciatingly slow journey surely designed to drive her mad. Carol wasn't sure how they went from shy boy to wild boy in the blink of an eye but she figured it was high time she felt every beautiful inch of him inside her. Snagging his hair in both her hands, Carol hauled him back up and kissed him hungrily, relishing the almost feral confidence he exuded now as he looked her dead on in the eye and smiled around her kisses.

"My turn?" Carol panted and, as he pulled back to ask what she meant, she knocked him off her and quickly straddled him, eager to make her own feast of his skin, tasting the texture of his pecs, sighing at how delicious his taste was, how grateful she was he was alive and with her. Her hands ran up the insides of his arms, feeling a flutter in her belly as she squeezed his biceps. Her mouth zeroed in on a nipple and teased it with her tongue and teeth, whimpering when he bucked his hips up and the smooth, hard length of his cock bumped against her sensitive clit. Diving frantically for his lips once again, she teased them both, slow languorous kisses combined with the roll of her hips against his cock, coating it liberally with her desire.

He braced his strong hands around her waist, pushing her up so that he could look at her. Her lips felt bereft but then he gently positioned her over him, and she finally experienced Daryl Dixon the way nature intended him as he set to exploring her depths. Her body was slow to part around him but that first hurdle suddenly gave way and she impaled herself on him hard, her mouth dropping open in shocked bliss. Another kiss and then she was moving experimentally, drawing slowly up until she could just feel the tip of his cock still stretching her open, and then sinking back down so that she felt full to bursting and her whole body sparking with tingling alertness.

He was thick and warm inside her, stretching her in such a delicious way that made all her senses feel alive again, renewed and energetic to live and prosper, as long as she was with him. As long as he was with _her. _ His animalistic grunts did nothing to quell the swell of her heart at the sensitivity of his movement with her, keeping to her tempo, and the way he cherished her body, inside and out and in ways she knew he didn't even realise. He thought he was a rough man, but she'd never known anyone more gentle or quiet. No one had surely existed who could love her any better than he did.

He touched her tenderly, his eyes hooded with passion and as she swirled her hands over his chest, she felt the light sheen of sweat their activity had brought forth beneath her palms, feeding her a heady sense of accomplishment. She sped up her movements as he reached up and cupped her cheek. She kissed his palm and quickened again. Feeling a tightening down deep in her belly, Carol prepared for the rush, bracing herself against his chest for the inevitable. His calloused fingers found her nipples, pinching them then soothing them with his tongue as she fell forward, her pelvis frantically maintaining the rhythm that was shooting her towards an unstoppable explosion. Another pinch and a sharp ache tore through her body, the over-sensitised, hardened nubs aching for more of the pleasure pain he was inflicting, whether he understood it or not. Daryl complied and sparks of intense pleasure shot through her body to her core and a sob escaped from between her lips, her body vibrating. So close, her eyes were glazed with tears as she silently begged him for something she couldn't even think how to verbalise, and before she knew what was happening she was on her back, Daryl poised over her, biceps bulging with strain as he held his body over her and pistoned his hips, amazingly heightening this tightening sensation inside her.

"Please?" She wasn't sure what she was begging for and by the confused expression that slipped across his face, Carol wasn't sure he knew either, but something inside them both knew not to stop what they were doing anyway. He stooped down to drag his lips across hers, his tongue flicking against her bottom lip as his moistened chest slid against her breasts. Carol curled her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his hips, rocking her hips along with his and then whimpered as he bumped against a spot inside her more sensitive than the rest. Goosebumps sprouted across her flesh and Carol moaned loudly, a war of hot and cold shivers battling it out across her whole body.

At last something snapped, Daryl jerking frantically inside her as she lost herself in a whirlwind of sensation, heat gushing from inside her and her body straining on the edge before faltering over. She felt like she was stretched beyond breaking point, the light in their room going wonky as she momentarily lost control of her body's movement. Slowly the level of awareness began to increase, Daryl's body collapsing against hers, his mouth buried against her neck, mumbling nonsense as his teeth periodically scraped against her flesh and sparked a new bout of shivers.

She giggled, pure happiness taking over as Carol wound her arms around his back and squeezed him tight. She wasn't ever letting go of him now and she hoped he knew it.

XXXXXXXXX

He'd never heard of people having out of body experiences during sex before, but Daryl would punch anyone in the face if they tried to tell him it wasn't happening to him right now. He had Carol Peletier beneath him in their bed—a bed they'd shared in name only up to this point and rarely had they rested in it together. She was in their bed, his cock submerged deep in her wet heat, her moans echoing off the walls around them, her nails creating rivers of blood across the flesh of his back and shoulders and he swore he could see every part of it as vividly as if he was a bystander watching porn on TV.

Fuck, she was so wet, her passage strangling him as she seemed to endlessly spasm around his dick, her breasts pressed against his chest. And her mouth—why the hell had he never tried kissing her before? He'd found fucking paradise within her mouth, found life in the way she choked his cock. Killing walkers, keeping the group safe could never have given him this and he hated like hell to admit it, but he'd been nothing but a pussy by not admitting how he'd felt about this woman. He couldn't get enough of touching her, tasting her, teasing her, and when she tightened so hard around him, squeezing his dick to the point of painful ecstasy, he was unable to prevent the burst of pleasure bounding through him and he let it go, let everything go—all his fears, all his sorrows, and just surrendered to the love he felt for this woman. He came harder than he could ever remember doing before, shooting his load deep inside her, each pump of his hips straining as she milked the energy right out of him.

He felt like crowing when the noises that erupted from her echoed around them, probably making their way out of the cell and to the ears of the nosy parkers outside. Old memories of Merle's bimbos making similar sounds came to him and then he did laugh, feeling for the first time in his life that if his brother had of been still around, he'd have slapped Daryl on the back and told him he was damn proud of his natural skills. Pity he had to be forty before he knew he had any sexual prowess at all.

He was spent, annoyed at himself but doing little to move once he collapsed on top of her, nuzzling his nose into her neck and she attempted to squeeze the life out of him. She giggled and it warmed his heart, made him the happiest he could ever remember, and already he was warming up to the idea that maybe they could do it all again. He could already feel the slow jerks of his cock hardening as it prepared itself for round two, and he bit into her skin, his pulse starting up another Zumba-like rhythm as his flesh broke out into a new sweat. Fuck, he felt randy as shit, like a teenager that got his dick wet for the first time and didn't want to ever forget the sensation.

"You good?" he growled into her ear, smirking in private when she moaned at his hardening cock against her inner thigh. She hummed against his jaw, her fingers tickling his scalp as she worked her way through his mop of hair and he randomly thought he should investigate the existence of a bit of shampoo one of these days.

"I'm perfect." She briefly kissed his lips, then bit her bottom one and drove him to distraction. "No point askin' how you are. I can feel you wanna go again."

Heat burned his face and Daryl buried himself against her shoulder. "You mind?"

Her palm curved around his jaw and dragged him back up level with her eyes and what he saw in them made him melt all over again.

"I'll never mind," she told him and he allowed the husky quality of her voice to rub his nerves raw. His cock slipped inside her without hardly any warning at all and he drank up her gasp with his lips. He'd never tire of kissing her, he knew, but first things first, he had the overpowering urge to fuck her into mindless oblivion. He wanted her writhing on the tip of his cock, gasping sharply to the tune of his wet thrusts, he wanted her to question her own damn name when he was through with her. He knew she was already on her way with the way her eyes glassed over and she arched her back against the mattress, hands reaching for him but not knowing where to settle. He moved up onto his knees, curling his hands around her buttocks as he altered her angle and pumped his hips ferociously, the speed doing something to set the primal side of him off and he lost his own common sense and relied heavily on instinct.

Carol whimpered pathetically and he grinned wolfishly, growling deep in his throat as she started tightening her muscles around him, sucking him in, gripping him tighter, then letting him slide partially out before repeating the action all over again. He felt dizzy and his arms shook as he braced himself forward, leaning over to lick her nipple into a hardened, responsive bud of nerves. His thumb found her clit and rubbed against it curiously and when she jerked against him and her voice broke around another ragged moan, he sucked his thumb and replaced it back on her, relishing the sensation of his wet digit rolling her sensitive nub. She rocked against him, whimpering and juddering so much that he knew he had her there again, the pinnacle he'd never have thought he could make someone reach. She came against his thumb and he found that he loved the sounds she made, loved seeing her lose control because of pleasure he gave her. It tipped him over the edge, and with a few final thrusts, he came for the second time within her body, finally knowing what it was like to lose himself with someone he loved.

It took time for both of them to calm down, but they lay beside each other, gazes locked, smiles in place, love filling the space between them. Daryl lay nude without a care in the world, linking his fingers with hers and resting them against his hip. Every now and then he leaned in and initiated another kiss and through the night they made love enough to reassure each other they were alive, that they were together, and that they no longer slept together but separate. The night was ancient by the time they slept.

XXXXXXX

Carol had been no stranger to the raw, burning pain between her legs after sex. Being married to Ed had come with few sensual benefits—the man had been a bully and selfish to the extreme, and there were reasons she hated to say aloud as to why she'd bought herself a vibrator. Still, even the pain inflicted by Ed's mostly dry romps, or the partial satiation of her explorations with her shiny toy dimmed into comparison with how exhausted and well-used she felt the next morning after sex with Daryl. With _lots _of sex with Daryl. She knew as soon as she woke that she was going to find movement a bit of a challenge. Her body felt bruised, bitten and steeped in bone deep exhaustion; in short, she had been totally ravaged and she had the sexual ache to prove it.

Daryl reached for her in half-sleep, his over-active fingers already searching out all the parts of her body that had lit up and sung his song all night long. Even the way she ached was pushed back in her mind when his fingers found the groove between her legs and set to work getting her wet and slathering her clit with moisture and touch. She came with a whimper precariously balanced between pain and ecstasy. Before she'd regained her breath, he'd pushed himself between her legs and entered her, and the way she abruptly expanded around him made her come again.

"Good mornin'." His voice was rough from lack of sleep, and combined with the slow movement of his hips, Carol wondered if she'd slipped out of the prison sometime through the night and found her way to Heaven.

"It is good. The best," she gasped as his hips wiggled abruptly and the little twist inside sent delicious tingles up her spine.

"You happy?" His arm disappeared behind her, pushing on her back so that she arched up into his chest. He licked a trail of delight up the length of her neck and she gasped.

"The happiest," she panted, finding her hands in his hair, tugging him up to her lips. "I love you."

He kissed her, his cock pulsing inside her as his speed picked up, the words doing something to spark a desperate fervour between them. He sucked on her lips, his tongue swirling along her teeth before meeting her own. Every nerve ending was alive, her body throbbing with need and he stroked her with his length, thick, hot, heavy, sticky. Sensation dragged in her gut and Carol could barely believe the grunt-like sounds of need that started back in her throat and filled his mouth before he pulled away, surging forward to fill her, then pulling back and leaving her empty and needy. Her legs raised around his waist, encouraging completion and as the happy murmurs of impassioned achievement spluttered and fell from her lips, he heaved himself inside her once more and ejaculated, his body shuddering before collapsing into her willing arms.

The shy smile she'd thought was almost completely eradicated surfaced once more. Carol loved that smile, loved the finger he used to trace strange shapes across her heart, loved the rough, grumbly texture of his voice as he spoke endearments and dreams.

"Wait, what?"

Daryl chuckled, kissing her chin. "Said I love you, too. You should stop daydreamin' long enough to hear my grand declarations."

"I thought the implication of us being married was as good as it would get," Carol admitted, still reeling in shock that Daryl Dixon had just said those words to her.

"Do you need a ceremony?" He was frowning and Carol could tell straight away a public declaration was something he'd never be comfortable with, and because she loved him, she was fine with that.

"I'm good," she reassured him, then slowly dragged her aching body from the bed, attempting to start their morning in the prison. The noises that emanated from her this time were ones a far cry from her previous ones of pleasure. These ones revealed enough pain that Daryl shot up in bed in alarm.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He reached for her and Carol turned, crumpling in his arms while dissolving into a fit of embarrassed giggles.

"I'm _fine, _Daryl. Just…thoroughly loved, you could say. I ache in places that haven't had any action in quite a while." He still looked concerned, and the blush that spread across his cheeks when he realised what she was implying betrayed a little bit of shame. "Don't feel bad. It's a good kind of pain, one I hope I can feel again soon. Though, maybe tonight we should sleep."

"Pffft," he said as he fell back against the pillows, one arm cocked behind his head as he leered at her, apparently not yet ready to let her escape their bed even now. "We'll sleep when we're dead."

Carol snorted a laugh, suddenly afraid he meant what he said. As much as she loved him, and loved what he'd done to her through their first night truly together, she had a feeling she was a little old to pull all nighters every day of the week. "Unless we walk again, huh?"

"We'll be the first walkers that take time out to fuck."

She laughed really hard at that. "Daryl Dixon's found his libido and he's not lettin' it go for anything, even an undead apocalypse. Is that how it is?"

He was on her in a flash, dragging her back into his thankfully sheet-covered lap. His hand cupped the side of her head and his lips were on hers, drugging her again with his kisses. "Only ever felt like this with you," he confided softly when he finally pulled away and Carol couldn't keep the dreamy expression from her face.

"Then I guess I'll have to get used to not sleepin' much. Shouldn't be too difficult." She threw him a wink then groaned all through the process of clothing herself and pulling on her boots. She didn't stay to see him crawl naked out of bed. As sore as she was, she wasn't so certain she could resist running her tongue over some newly discovered treasures.

Breakfast was well underway by the time she descended the stairs, her body not cooperating with her desire to walk normally and behaving like that of an old woman rather than a woman in her forties just striking her prime. Her crotch felt swollen and a little raw, the muscles in her legs ached like they never had before, and her eyelids were screaming at her to take herself back to bed and get some actual sleep.

Maggie glanced at her when she walked into the room, then took another look as Carol stumbled into a seat, a bowl of something indescribable in her hands. Her eyes shot wide open and a filthy look of understanding crossed her face.

"Carol, why are you walkin' funny?


End file.
